The camp was too quiet.
It wasn't peace—it was fear. Soldiers walked with heads lowered, voices hushed, as if the air itself had teeth. Everyone knew something had broken inside their commander the moment he returned without Lexi.
Nathan had been feared before. But now… now he was terrifying.
He hadn't spoken to anyone for hours after the cliff. Not when his men asked questions. Not when the officers offered reports. He walked through the camp like a phantom, his jaw tight, his hands trembling in silence.
Only his eyes spoke.
And they promised hell.
Kelvin was still in the dungeon, chains biting into his wrists and ankles, his body bruised from the soldiers' rough handling. His pleas had already become background noise to the guards.
They knew he wouldn't leave alive.
The dungeon was a pit beneath the main building—stone walls slick with damp, the air thick with mildew and rot. Torches flickered, throwing long shadows that danced like ghosts across the ground.
Kelvin had been dumped onto the cold floor. Hours passed. His wrists bled where he had pulled against the shackles, his mind spiraling between dread and denial.
Then he heard the footsteps.
Measured. Slow. Heavy.
Nathan entered.
He wasn't wearing his uniform jacket anymore. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, veins standing out against tense forearms. His shirt was half open, his skin smeared with dirt, dried blood staining the collar. His hair was disheveled, his face pale but his eyes—those eyes burned red, hollowed out by fury and something far darker.
Kelvin's heart slammed into his throat.
"Commander—sir—please, I had nothing to do with—"
"Shut up."
The voice was low, guttural.
Nathan walked toward him slowly, a hunter savoring the approach. His boots echoed against stone, each step loud in the suffocating silence. He crouched before Kelvin, their eyes locking.
"She jumped," Nathan murmured, more to himself than to the prisoner. "She jumped because I let her. Because I didn't chain her to me. Because I let her run free like a wild thing." His voice cracked, but then hardened. "And you—you fed the fire. You poisoned the game. You wanted her destroyed."
Kelvin shook his head wildly. "No! I was just following orders—Ezra pushed me into it! I—I was trying to protect the camp!"
Nathan's lips curved into a smile that wasn't a smile at all. "Protect the camp? Or protect yourself?"
Kelvin flinched as Nathan's hand shot forward, gripping his neck in an iron hold until his eyes bugged.
"You schemed against her. You spied. You waited like a rat for her downfall." Nathan's eyes glistened, not with mercy but with rage. "Now you'll feel what I feel. Pain."
The torture began quietly.
Nathan pulled a knife from his belt, the blade catching the torchlight in a cruel shimmer. He dragged it deeply across Kelvin's cheek, cutting deep.
Kelvin screamed.
Nathan leaned in, his lips near his ear. "Do you know what it feels like? To crave someone so much you'd chain them to your soul if you could? To ache for their touch, their defiance, their maddening smirk—and then lose them to the abyss?"
The knife slashed downward across his chest. Not deep, but enough to make him scream.
Nathan watched without flinching. His face was blank, but his eyes gleamed with a storm.
"I still feel her," he whispered.
'Her eyes staring back at me. Her voice taunting me. Her lips—damn her lips—'
He thought as his hand tightened on the knife until his knuckles whitened. "And now she's gone. Because of you."
Kelvin sobbed, shaking his head violently. "Please—please, Commander—I didn't mean—"
The blade pierced his thigh this time. Kelvin's scream echoed through the dungeon, bouncing off the walls until it became one with the shadows.
Nathan didn't blink. He twisted the knife slowly, watching the him writhe and choke on his agony.
"This isn't enough," Nathan growled, yanking the blade free, blood dripping onto the stone floor. His breathing was ragged, uneven. "Your screams don't quiet her voice in my head. Your blood doesn't drown her memory."
He grabbed an iron whip hanging from the wall. The iron cracked through the air before lashing across Kelvin's back. Flesh split. Blood sprayed. Kelvin's cries grew hoarse, his body convulsing under the chain's restraint.
But Nathan did not stop.
Each strike was a wordless curse. Each lash a punishment not only for Kelvin, but for himself—for his weakness, his desire, his failure.
"You think she was weak?" Crack.
"You thought she'd break?" Crack.
"You thought she was beneath you?" Crack.
Kelvin's back was nothing but torn flesh when Nathan finally stopped, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temples.
Kelvin sagged in the chains, eyes rolling, breath shallow.
Nathan stood over him, staring at the broken man.
But still—still—it wasn't enough.
He pressed the pistol to Kelvin's forehead.
Kelvin's eyes flew open in terror, his lips trembling. "No—please—I'm sorry"
Nathan's hand shook, not from hesitation, but from the storm inside him.
"Lexi," he whispered, the name tasting like ash. "If you're sorry, bring her back."
The shot thundered in the dungeon.
Kelvin's body went limp. His blood pooled beneath him, the metallic scent thick in the air.
Nathan lowered the pistol slowly, his hand trembling harder now. He stared at the lifeless corpse, but there was no satisfaction. No relief.
Only silence.
Only her face, mocking him from the abyss.
Nathan staggered back, leaning against the wall, running a blood-streaked hand through his hair. He laughed—a broken, hollow sound.
"I should've caged you," he muttered, his voice cracking. "Knocked you out. Kept you under lock and key. You'd hate me, but you'd be alive."
His chest heaved, his heart clawing at his ribs. He still wanted her. Desired her. Hated her.
And now, he was left with nothing but memories of her.
The camp would tremble, but none would know the truth—that their commander had lost his sanity the day Lexi 'died.'
And no amount of torture or death could satiate the hunger she left burning in him.